Dinner Time
by nevercallmesane
Summary: The Joker is faced with an unimaginable challenge that may put his life at stake-making dinner without Harley.


The moment the Joker sat down for lunch without hot, steamy food tempting him with it's delicious aroma, he knew something was missing.

"Harley!" The word rolled off the Joker's tongue roughly as he sprang to his feet, the action unsettling the chair he was sitting on. The rocking motion of the chair balancing on its back legs tore at the Joker's attention until it fell backwards with a loud _crack._ He sensed that the same crack would soon meet his ears again when he found Harley. With a grumble from his empty stomach, the Joker stormed past the fallen chair and headed out of the kitchen. Passing the barely functioning fridge, a small white square of paper whipped past his line of vision before disappearing. Startled, The Joker stood for a few seconds in confusion trying to figure out where in the world that white flash came from. Then with an _'Ahh-_HAA!' the Joker spun around on his heels to face the refrigerator. Sure enough, a small Post-It note was stuck smack in the middle. Gingerly a white hand reached out to grab the equally white note and tear it off the surface of the fridge. Making a grand show of examining the note at all angles before actually reading it, the Joker sat down on top of a counter and registered what the words meant.

_Puddin-_

_Going out for some shopping while the deals are high and I actually have some time. :) Hope you don't mind. Don't worry, I'll get you something too. Anyway, some chicken is left in the fridge and I made some fresh salad before I left. Leave the chicken in the microwave for two and a half minutes, then it should be ready. I promise I'll make something more when I come back. _

_ XOXOXOXO, Harley._

Puzzling over what all the x's and o's were all about, The Joker opened the refrigerator and reached inside. Ignoring the leafy greens, the bowl of chicken came out along with a jar of ketchup. Now for the hard part. Smothering the chicken in ketchup to make it look bloody, the Joker stuffed the bowl into the microwave and closed the door. Running his finger over all the numbers like he'd seen Harley do so many times, the Joker sang out the rhyme used whenever he couldn't make up his mind.

"Eny, meeny, minny, MOE! Catch a Harley by the TOE! If she hollers don't let her go, eny meen minny MOE!"

Coming to a stop at '7', the Joker ignored Harley's instructions and pressed it. The light inside the machine flickered, died, then with a final effort spluttered to life. The bowl of chicken rotated 'round and 'round and 'round and 'round...

_BING! _The Joker emerged from his mesmerized trance, blinking at every _bing_ that sounded from the machine. When the sound finally stopped, the Joker danced around the kitchen in a sort of cheerleader routine that he had seen Harley do countless times, screaming the word 'chicken!' every so often. Finally remembering his dinner, the Joker yanked the microwave door open. Giggling over his creation, the clown removed the chicken and set it on the counter. It looked a bit of an unusual color, and he also noticed the strong smell coming from the dinner, and it wasn't a delicious aroma. The Joker placed his hands on his hips and pouted at the chicken.

"Now now little birdie, don't be like that. I didn't go through all this trouble," he gestured to the fridge, ketchup, and microwave "for nothing! Now, I'm going to stab you with a fork, and just because you're dead doesn't mean that you can just lay there. Squirm around a bit, and then _maybe _I'll consider eating you, never mind the fact that you smell. One, two, three!" The fork went through the bird, the chicken stayed still, and the Joker exaggeratively sighed. He fed a bit of the bird into his mouth and then promptly spit it out on the floor, scrunching his nose in disgust. He threw his arms up in defeat, then as they swung down they smacked the chicken onto the floor. The Joker had to admit it. He cannot cook for his life. He also can't properly play golf, but that's a different manner. Grabbing a half-eaten apple off of a basket on the broken table, he huffed out of the foul smelling kitchen and entered the main room of the warehouse, or the 'living room' as Harley liked to refer to it. He lazily took notice of Bud and Lou sleeping with each other on the peeling and stained couch.

He weakly threw his half-eaten apple at the hyenas, snickering inwardly when it 'boncked' Bud on the furry head. The shocked mammal lifted his head in an instant, unsettling Lou and causing him to wake as well.

"Dinny dinny time doggies!" His high-pitched scream screeched into Bud and Lou's sensitive ears. They whimpered at first, the noise piercing. But then almost immediately their canine noses picked up the scent of chicken, and like yapping puppies they made their way to the kitchen, bouncing with every step and almost overturning the Joker. He threw his arms up in exasperation and wiggled them a bit above his head before calling out after the hyenas. "What was that? _We're immensely grateful for this scrumptious meal of exquisite taste that you fabulous person made for us smelly hairy beasts?_ Just make sure to finish it all."

It was when the Joker found the phone hidden in one of his slippers (He was positive it was destiny when the received the idea. The Idea. To order. Chinese.

Now just to convince Harley to take care of a bloody Asian carcass when she came back.


End file.
